Maison du Phénix
by Ali989969
Summary: In an world without horcruxes, life in Wizarding England is very different. Hermione returns to Britain before her 17th birthday and meets a certain blond Slytherin that she struggles to understand. Better summary with story.
1. The introduction

**AN: There are a few things that need to be explained before going on this EXTREMELY alternate view of the wonderful Harry Potter world. In this world, two things very early on change everything: 1) Horcruxes don't exist and 2) the Grangers moved to France in Hermione's infancy because of the numerous unsolved Muggle killings (by Death Eaters) throughout England. While Draco is only mentioned in passing during this chapter, this **_**is**_** Dramione. Readers of my SVM stories know that I just LOVE switching up characters and making them act a little differently than they normally would or have them in unusual situations. I am posting the first two chapters at once and will decide on whether or not to continue based on the response and feedback.**

**Apparently necessary disclaimer: I own nothing about the characters or fictional locations. I'm just playing in JK Rowling's toybox for a little while.**

She's there again. The first day, I thought it was unusual. The second and third days had to be flukes. This is the fourth day and she laying in the same spot and in the same position – on her back, eyes closed, soaking up the sun.

I take a moment to be grateful that Italy's laws regarding underage magic are far more lax than those on the British Isles. I conjure a small bouquet of unique flowers as an ice breaker and walk down to the beach, leaving my wand behind.

She doesn't register my presence as I approach; her eyes stay closed and she doesn't move. I take the time to look over her. Her golden skin glistens in the early afternoon sun. She's fit and curvy at the same time – flat belly, long, lean legs with round and smooth hips, and full breasts that amply fill the cups of her scarlet bikini. Dark brown hair with sun-bleached strips of blond is coiled on her head in a messy bun. What I've baffled by are the bright blue cords that run from her ears down to a tiny box with a screen showing still pictures. I clear my throat to get her attention. No reaction.

I know my appearance will spook her if I appear without warning. I think for a moment and change the direction of my approach, letting my shadow fall over her face. When she registers the lack of sun, she sits up and opens her eyes.

Alert, she's even more appealing. Her face shows a multitude of expressions – confusion, fear, apprehension, and annoyance. She removes the sapphire toned cords from her ears and looks up at me. "_Posso aiutarla_?" (Can I help you?) she asks with attitude, not pleased with the disturbance. Too bad; she's on _my_ private property.

"_Caio, bella_," I say smoothly. Pulling my hand from behind my back, I present her with the miniature, sunset-hued tulips I conjured earlier. I don't usually go for Muggle girls, but this one is gorgeous and may be a fun diversion.

"Oh, how cute!" she exclaims in sarcastic, accented Italian. Smirking, she reaches behind her back and transfigures them into comically large daffodils. "I can do that too!"

She's a witch?! Not only is she a witch, but if she can do nonverbal spells at our age (I assume we're about the same age), she's an extremely talented and powerful one. I take a guess based on her accent. "Beauxbatons?"

Her smirk becomes a genuine grin. She asks in still-rough Italian, "Do you speak French?"

My French is basic and rough, not nearly smooth enough to hold a conversation with, much like I'm noticing her Italian is. I go with a third option and hope I'm lucky. "English?"

"Oui," she sighs, relieved. "I speak English." She still has the French accent, but it's not as thick. I must look confused, so she clarifies. "My father is British, and I was born there, but my mum is French and they moved us to Nice when I was about a year old. I was taught both French and English at home. My Italian is from books and tapes."

I disregard the "tapes" comment. I don't know how anyone would learn a language from strips of Spell-o-tape. I tell her, "My mum's English, but my _padre_ was from here. The house there," I point past the dunes behind us, "has been in his family for several generations. When I come of age it will be mine."

"All yours? _Il palazzo di_…" she giggles and it's a happy, bubbly sound. "I just realized I don't know your name."

"Ah, _votre beaute_ caused my normally impeccable manners to escape me." I take her delicate hand and press my lips lightly to her fingers. "Blaise Zabini."

Her sun-kissed cheeks blaze pink under the gold. "Hermione Granger. It's a pleasure."

"So, Hermione," I ask, loving the way her name feels as it rolls off my tongue, "how did you know that the flowers I presented you were magical?"

She throws her head back in laughter. "Call it a hunch. The flowers were unusually small and a curious blended shade of colors for a hybrid. I went with an educated guess." Standing with a stretch that elongates her limbs beautifully, she heads toward the clear water of the sea.

I jog to follow her. "You are aware that this is a private beach, no?" I have no intention of shooing her away, but I do wonder if she knows that she is trespassing.

She wades in and flashes a smile at me over her shoulder. "Of course I do. It's what convinced my parents to rent Nico Alvise's villa," she points to a small cottage further down the dunes. "Resorts are too busy and noisy. We prefer the peace here."

I inch closer watching her bob in the waves. "And your parents? What do they do?"

She sighs and rolls her eyes, dipping down into the water to it's just under her chin. "They're dentists."

"Dentists?" I ask. I'm not familiar with that.

"Teeth healers? Would that be a more recognizable term? They're Muggles."

I'm shocked into stillness. She's Muggle-born? The blood prejudice in our world is not as bad as it once was, but it's still alive and thriving in some families. Mine is _not_ one of them. But the only Muggle-borns I know are either Hufflepuffs or, worse, Gryffindors.

"I knew it," she mumbles and heads back to the spot on the sand where I found her. She rubs a towel briskly over her wet skin as I run to stop her from leaving. "You know," she huffs, wrapping the towel around her waist, "what the bloody damn difference does it make?"

I step closer, not wanting her to have the wrong impression. "It makes no difference to me, _bella_. I was merely surprised. I just want to know more about my beautiful neighbor." I step closer still. "I even made special magic flowers for you." My goal is accomplished when she gives me a giggle. With a small tug, I convince her to join me on the blanket she left lying on the sand. "I really do want to get to know you better. So many summers, it's just been me alone. It'll be fun having someone my own age around."

It's not an exaggeration. My mother has dumped me here ever summer holiday for the past 4 years on the not-so-watchful eye of the property caretaker while she chases the next overflowing Gringott's vault… I mean, fiancée. I'm not exactly close to any of my half-siblings; they have their own estates where they spend their holidays. Now that I think about it, one of my half-brothers started at Beauxbatons just a couple of years before I entered Hogwarts. "Do you know Lukas Milicevic? He just finished his seventh year."

She bites her lower lip, searching her memory. "Tall boy, blonde, fair… _Maison de Chimere_?"

I nod. "That sounds right, although I'm not familiar with the Beauxbatons houses. What are they?"

She looks at me suspiciously. I've never understood the secrecy between magical schools. We came together two years ago for the Tri-Wizard Tournament companionably enough. I open the door for some sharing. "The Hogwarts houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin. I'm in Slytherin."

She smiles and starts walking down the shore, tugging my fingers lightly. I rise to follow her, loving the view from behind. She slows her gait to walk next to me. "We have five houses: _Licorn, Ondin, Lutin, Phenix, et Chimere._ I am a _Phénix_."

Their houses are magical creatures. There is something seemingly… mystical about that. I know from Lukas that his house is named for the Chimera and common sense tells me that her house is Phoenix. My French is too basic to translate the others, so I ask. She explains, "Unicorn, Merfolk, and Sprites," in her adorable accent. "We all have different qualities or strengths. How are Hogwarts students sorted?"

I can't see any harm in divulging our house characteristics. "Ravenclaws are smart and clever. Gryffindors are courageous and brash. Hufflepuffs are hardworking and loyal, and we Slytherin are cunning and sneaky," I say with a devilish smirk.

She smiles and it's beautiful. "_Chimeres_ are athletic and strong; sometimes frighteningly powerful, physically. _Licorns_ are pure and kind, but fearsome if crossed. _Ondin_ are physically beautiful and sneaky. They tend to pair up with Chimeras – beauty and brawn. _Lutin_ are lively and mischevious. That whole house is filled with troublemakers, but only a few are truly malicious. Then there is the amazing _Maison du __Phénix_," she says, tossing me a cheeky wink, kicking her toes through the sea foam on the sand.

I clasp her hand in mine and walk a little closer. "I bet those Phoenixes are nothing but trouble," I tease.

"Oh, _Zucchero_," she says in a surprisingly convincing accent, "you simply can't imagine the trouble you can get into with _una fenice_." Her eyes meet mine and I want to melt. I want to swim in those warm chocolate pools.

"I'm sure it's no worse than one would experience with an incredible Slytherin. Those Hogwarts boys shouldn't be trifled with." Fuck, I want her.

"I believe a proper Beauxbatons girl could hold her own," she murmurs in a husky voice. Her body bows toward mine for a long moment; out eyes lock and I feel stupefied. Before anything happens though, she seems to snap out of it, literally shaking her head as if dazed. "I think you Slytherin boys might be more than I know how to manage. British boys are trouble."

I can't help grinning. "But I'm Italian. And French girls do nothing but tease."

"I was born British and am only half French. Does that combination make me just a quarter tease? What would be rest of me be?" she asks with a teasing lilt.

She's bloody smart. I haven't had this much fun bantering back and forth with someone in months. The last time was when Draco got pissed on firewhisky and lost the stick up his arse for an evening. He's one of the few people at that school with a brain and a sense of humor… at least, when he allows himself to drop his guard.

To answer her puckish question, I pull her to me and whisper in her ear, "Fucking gorgeous." I'm gentle with her, not wanting to scare her away within an hour of meeting her. I just brush her lips with mine and pull back, take her hand again, and continue down the beach.

Hermione continues to look distracted during our stroll back to her blanket. She glances at me occasionally and runs her fingers unconsciously over mine. When we get to her spot, she begins to fold her things and stuff them in a canvas bag. "You know, you never told me what characteristics Phoenixes have," I remind her softly. I don't want her to leave yet.

She smiles at me. Not a grin or a smirk, but a genuine smile. "Maybe I should make it a mystery. If I don't keep you guessing, what other reason would you have to come see me every day?"

Now my smile matches hers. "You want to spend your vacation with me?"

"I'm fifteen," she says. Good, we _are_ the same age. "I love my parents, but I don't want to spend all my time with them. They want to go on guided tours and buy out antique shops. I just want to relax and enjoy my time here. The summer holiday goes so fast and before I'm ready, it's time to return to Villas… I mean, school." Her cheeks blush pink again and she looks away.

I really don't know why we're encouraged to be so secretive about our school locations. Karkaroff almost decked Krum for divulging too much about Durmstrang at the Yule Ball last year. I choose to ignore her almost-slip. "Would you like for me to join you here tomorrow?" Pleasepleaseplease.

"If you don't mind me _trespassing_ again, I'll make us some lunch. Meet me here at noon?" Her eyes look as hopeful as I'm sure mine do.

"It's a date," I reply, again in a whisper, letting my breath rush over her neck, giving her adorable goose bumps despite the late afternoon heat. Her eyes are dark – wanting more? I press my lips to hers, harder than before, but still chaste. She steps closer and I can feel the heat of her skin on mine., Fuck… Merlin… she feels amazing.

I watch her leave, heading toward the small cottage beyond the dunes. For the first time, I don't see a lonely vacation in my future.

* * *

Hermione is amazing. We have spent every day together for the past two weeks. I've met her parents and taken her out on proper dates. We've played on the beach and made-out under the stars in the dunes. Despite getting sand in some very sensitive places, being so intimate with her… Gods! It's impossible to describe.

Her skin is so impossible smooth, it feels like warm satin when I touch her. Every time we meet, we become bolder, learning each other's bodies. Her mouth and neck taste like a sweet, mellow wine – so smooth and ambrosial that the intoxication sneaks up on you. I learn quickly that every bit of skin that I am allowed to taste is exactly the same. Her breasts are soft but firm, the right size to fit my palms perfectly, with petal pink nipples that pebble deliciously at the softest touch.

She's generous, my sweet Mia. She never lets me give her pleasure without reciprocating in some way. The first time her small, hot hand wraps around my cock, only willpower from an unknown source keeps me from coming instantly. I few nights later when she kneels between my legs and wraps her beautiful lips around me, I know I've found heaven on Earth and become eager to return the favor.

I will be her first. She will be my second, having lost my cherry to Daphne Greengrass after the Yule Ball. It was not as exciting as I had anticipated. I'm hoping that Mia and I will share the high that neither of us has experienced yet.

It's only been two weeks since we met, but I know I care for her. It's not love for either of us, but the fleeting summer romance we have is a significant one in both our lives. I want this moment to be as special and memorable as possible.

I walk to meet her at her parent's villa. I hear her tell them that she will be late tonight and to not wait up. I suddenly feel lucky that her parents like me. Knowing she has no curfew to stick to… that we're free to take our time… I feel myself harden at the mere prospect. She meets me on the porch after telling the Drs. Granger good night and greets me with a chaste kiss on the cheek and a smile. When I see her outfit, I can't hide my groan. While I have seen her in an array of different bikinis, something about the pale blue lace sundress is innocently arousing. She takes my hand and we walk the short distance to my manor.

I've planned tonight to the smallest detail. We sit on the patio to eat dinner, a fresh antipasto salad and a dry red wine from a local vineyard. We both just sip, wanting to be relaxed, not drunk. Watching the sun sink into the sea, streaking the sky with blazes of pink, orange, and violet, we lean against each other and watch the colors reflect off the clear water. She giggles softly.

"What is it, _Cara mia_?"

She looks up at me, the deep brown of her eyes mirroring the vibrant sky. "I think I know the inspiration for my magical bouquet." Keeping the smile on her exquisite lips, she tilts her head closer to mine. "I never thanked you for those, did I?"

I pretend to search my memory. "I don't believe you did, you ungrateful witch." I grin so she knows I'm teasing. "However can you make it up to me?"

She doesn't answer me with words, instead twining her hand into my curls and gently pulling me closer. I don't hesitate and press my mouth to hers, sliding my tongue between her lips. She whimpers softly and holds on to me tightly, matching my intensity. She slides her mouth to my neck – licking, sucking, and nibbling until I'm panting. "Merlin, Mia, I don't think you know what you do to me."

Her small hands slides down from my hair, over my chest and abdomen, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. "I think I do," she whispers against my shoulder. "I think it might be _you_ who doesn't know what you do to _me_. But I want you… more than I thought I could." Her breathing is heavy and it relieves me a bit to know she's as affected by me as I am by her.

I break away from her kisses and meet her eyes. She looks hurt by the supposed rejection before I take her hand and stand. Silently urging her to do the same, I lead her inside. Hermione has been inside before, but has never ventures beyond the kitchen or the guest loo. Her eyes widen as we pass living rooms and other unused, empty rooms on the way to the master suite.

I make my room comfortable and, while proud of being a Slytherin, I don't feel the need to cover every bit of my personal space in green and sliver, like _some_ of my housemates. The room is in warm neutrals – terra cotta, ecru, and burnt sienna. My Mia looks around, surprised. "Your home is lovely, Blaise. I have to say that it's exactly how I imagined it. You have very good taste."

I pull her tightly to me and smirk down at her. "Of course I do; look who I have here with me." I kiss her lightly before swallowing my nerves. "Can I show you the bed?"

Without letting go of where her arms are wrapped around my waist, she nods a shy smile. I sweep her up and toss her gently onto the mattress. Following her, the stretch other over her and begin to kiss her more passionately than I have all night. I can't get enough of the feeling of her lips on mine, the taste of her mouth, and the way her body rubs against mine. Sliding a hand up one silky, tan leg slowly, her skirt lifts the higher my hand goes. I shiver at her moan when she shifts her legs, trying to give me better access.

I nip down her neck to her shoulders and pluck the spaghetti straps of her dress with my teeth. When she nods, I untangle my other hand from her hair and slowly pull the zipper down, loving the expanse of bare skin it allows me to feel. And it's _all_ bare – no bra strap. I press my hand to her warm back and pull her closer, reveling in the way she fits so perfectly against me.

The tiny straps slide down her arms on their own and I feel it's my duty to help them on their journey. I place my hands on her shoulders and glide them down her limbs, lowering the top of her dress and exposing her beautiful breasts. I move my lips over her collarbone and down her chest, anxious to meet my friends who seem just as happy to have me greet them.

I lick over the tight buds and blow softly, watching them harden and pucker. She shivers below me and sighs, running her fingers through my hair. Cupping her breasts in my hands, I latch onto one, sucking and nipping softly at one nipple while rolling the other between my fingers, gently plucking at it. Her high-pitched whimpers and the way she grinds her hips against mine tell me I'm pleasing her.

I slide her dress completely off her body, leaving her on my bed in pale blue lace knickers that match her dress in detail. I pull off my shirt and drop my trousers, so I'm standing only in my black boxer-briefs. Kneeling between her legs, I watch her look over me, her already dark eyes glazed almost black. My sweet Mia sits up and wraps her arms around my neck, pulling me in for possibly the sweetest yet most erotic kiss I've ever participated in.

I push the limits of my willpower, not wanting to go too fast or be too rough. My experience is not much more than hers, but I know that losing your virginity can be painful for girls. I want her relaxed and excited before I breach that barrier. I slide my lips over her cheek and nibble softly at that sensitive spot right below her ear, making her shiver and pant. My hands cover and squeeze her tits, massaging them. She shifts and rubs her thighs together, wanting some kind of friction. I whisper in her ear to be patient, that all her desires will be fulfilled before I let her go.

I let my lips slowly travel down her body. I nip and kiss every inch of skin I come to, drowning in the pleasured moans she sighs out at each point of contact. I suckle at each nipple before moving lower and dip my tongue into her navel. She giggles breathlessly before gasping as I venture further south. I've never done this before, but I want to try tonight.

So carefully, tentatively I run my fingers over her lower lips. She's not bare, but closely trimmed and neat. The smell of her arousal is like nothing I've encountered before. I dip my head and let my tongue slide through her folds and get chills down my spine over her lusty cry. I take it to mean I'm doing something right and repeat the gesture. One hand flies behind her to hold onto the headboard and her other lodges in my hair, making me chuckle softly against her sensitive skin. Her flavor is sweet and intoxicating, like every other part I've had the pleasure of tasting, but even more so. I go on a combination of instinct and her responses, licking here, sucking there, rolling my tongue every now and then to break up any monotony. She whimpers and cries out, never quite going over the edge and is frustrated by the tension that surely has her abdomen in knots, the same as mine. But this is about _her_. I swirl my tongue around her clit and suck as I slide a single finger into her. She's so wet, it slides in easily, but I can tell how tight she is. I let my finger ghost back and forth inside her before adding a second to intensify the sensation and to stretch her, hoping to make adjusting easier for her. The moment the second digit enters her, her back flies off the bed in an arch and she's gasping incoherently, muscles shaking, body glistening with sweat. Seeing her come , because of _me_, is one of the most lovely, amazing things I've ever seen.

I pet and stroke her softly, easing her through the aftershocks of her orgasm. Kissing my way back up her body, I nuzzle into her neck. "Thank you," she whispers against me cheek.

"I'm the thankful one, _cara_. You are so beautiful when you come like that. Are you ready for more," I say with a wicked smirk, that she surprises me by mirroring back at me.

"I don't think I could ever have enough. Just… be gentle at first, okay?" she says carefully. As though I wouldn't. I kiss her soundly and give her my promise that if she wants to stop, she needs only say so. I grab my wand from the nightstand, perform a contraceptive charm quickly, and toss it to the side, so as not to break the romantic mood.

I ease down my boxers and let her see me. Her eyes devour my form and I get even harder from the hunger glowing in them. Sliding my body over hers, holding my weight off her on my forearms, I return to kissing her, relishing the way her fingers glide over my shoulders and down my biceps. I reach between us and position my erection at her entrance. "Ready, _tesora_?" I ask tensely, my willpower to hold out for her about to give.

"Please," she whines, grinding her hips up into mine. I meet her and let my tip slip into her silky wetness. _Fuuuuuck_. Just the feel of how hot and tight she is almost takes me over before we can even start. I tense my jaw and think about Dumbledore in a Speedo. The metal image is enough to hold off what would potentially be a huge embarrassment. She shifts under me and let me know she's okay for me to move. I sink further and feel her barrier. Pulling back, I tell her, "I'm sorry in advance. This might hurt."

"Just do it, Blaise. I'm ready," she says firmly, if a little breathlessly. Closing my eyes, I thrust and push through, wincing as she whimpers against my neck. I still myself, waiting until she's ready for more. After a few moments and a gasp, she nods her head against me and slightly arches her back, pushing her lovely body closer to mine.

Carefully, slowly, I slide out before gently thrusting back in, not wanting to push her too fast. My body may want to pound into her like the world was about to end, but she deserves more than a mindless fuck, especially for her first time. She is in complete control of the pace and force of our _lovemaking_. As she becomes more comfortable with the sensations, she begins moving with me, finally wrapping her legs around my waist and bucking her hips into mine. "More, Blaise," she groans, and I increase both the speed and force of my thrust, hoping I can push her over before the slick velvet of her pussy takes me over the edge.

I know I won't be able to hold off much longer, so I slide a hand between us and rub quick, slippery circles over her nub and feel her walls start to quiver and tighten. Dipping my head, I take a nipple between my lips and suck, just hard enough to toe the line between pleasure and pain, and it's enough to send her over. "Blaise… Merlin… _Oh_ _FOUTRE_!" she cries out in French, her cunt tightening around me like a vice. It's more than I can take and I release, coating her womb with my seed.

I collapse to her side, both of us out of breath and speechless. She slides closer to me and rests her head on my shoulder. "Thank you again, Blaise," she mumbles, obviously exhausted.

"My Mia, never thank me for _that_. I'm glad I can't say the pleasure was all mine, but I certainly had my share. Thank you for letting me be your first, _mia piccola fenice._ It's an honor you can't imagine."

"I just hate that I'm leaving tomorrow. We should have done this sooner…" she sighs, her breath warm against my neck.

"No, Mia. Any sooner and it wouldn't have been as special as it was tonight. I hate that you're leaving tomorrow too, but it's not forever. We can owl each other until next summer. If nothing else, we'll have the memories of tonight to hold us over."

She wipes her cheeks free of tears and sits up to look at me. "Then help me make more memories of tonight, _mio serpente erotico_," she drawls, making me harden again, just hearing her sexy accent while speaking Italian. She flips over me with surprising agility and we spend the rest of night making memories to carry us through the next year, until we can see each other again.

* * *

I smile every time the tawny owl drops a letter by my plate. We send letters back and forth every week, without fail. I can't help noticing the tenor of her letters becoming more melancholy as the months pass. Before Easter, I have to reassure her that I'm still here for her, and that summer isn't too far away. She tells me in her next letter than she won't be returning to Italy for her vacation this year; things beyond her control are keeping her away and that she hopes I'm not too disappointed in her. I write her back and tell her that I'm not, but I also don't hesitate in releasing some sexual tension with a couple of Slytherin classmates. I send her back a final letter before school ends and tell her that the beach won't be the same without her and hope that we meet up again sometime in the future.

**Forgive my bad French/Italian. It's from Google Translate. I don't know any better.**


	2. Her return

"Miss Granger, I'm sure that you're aware how rare it is for a student to transfer into Hogwarts. Once a wizard or witch begins attending an academy, they tend to stay until graduation. Although you are British by birth, at the age of eleven, because you were living in France, I understand the desire to attend Beauxbatons. When your parents made the decision to return to England, what made you want to change your school?" Minerva McGonagall questions me. I think carefully before I answer the question posed to me.

It's true that my parents decided to move their dental practice to Nice when I was a mere infant. They told me when I was old enough to question it that it was because of the number of suspicious unsolved murders in the UK while Mum was pregnant and shortly after I was born. Before I was a year old, they sold our house in Kent and crossed the channel. Five years ago, Mum and Dad got the letter from Beauxbatons and a visit from Madame Rousseau, the _instructeur des potions_ at the Academy. They explained my… talent and what it would mean for my future. Being the wonderful parents they are, they accepted everything with an open mind and wished me well on the new direction my life would take. When my first term started at the beginning of September, I remember almost shaking with excitement. I was finally able to understand why I was able to make the strange things around happen that no one was able to logically explain.

"Madame," I respond to the woman who is to become my Transfiguration Professor, "my needs for a quality education were no longer being met at Beauxbatons. When my parents decided to return to England, I chose to come with them. " And that's true, if not the _whole_ truth.

McGonagall scowls at me, not entirely happy with my response. I try to correctly phase my answer more to her liking. "Professor, I can understand your hesitation. In all honesty, once my family decided to return to Kent, I researched Hogwarts. I visited briefly to watch the final challenge of the Tri-Wizard tournament with the rest of my school and believe that if I am to reach my goal after school, Hogwarts is better suited to my fields of study."

She reaches for a folder at her desk and flips through. "True. You have exceptional marks in all your subjects, although the French practice of not conducting standardized tests until the sixth year is frustrating. I suppose I can confer with Professor Dumbledore to see if we can translate these French grades into something comparable to our O.W.L.S. There are two weeks until the beginning of the term. Your transfer will be accepted. You are free to take a room in Hogsmeade and wait for September or return to Kent and make your way to London and ride with the other students aboard the Hogwarts' Express. If I may make a suggestion," she says questioningly. I nod and she continues, "I recommend the train. I would give you a chance to meet your fellow students in a casual setting." I nod again and stand to leave. Before I make it to the door of her office, she gasps.

"Dear, before you go, we need to go to Professor Dumbledore's office. Not only will he want to meet you personally, you need to be sorted. I doubt a sixteen-year old such as yourself would want to go through sorting in front of the school with the other first-years."

I enthusiastically agree and follow her to the Entrance Hall. Standing in front of a giant gargoyle, she says, "Pumpkin Pasty". The gargoyle steps aside to reveal a spiral staircase that we climb only to encounter a huge wooden door.

"Come in, Minerva," we hear called from the room beyond the massive barrier.

I follow her in and meet the headmaster. Older than dirt is my first impression. Long white hair to his chest and a matching beard to his waist, Professor Dumbledore peers at me over his half-moon spectacles that are perched on his long, crooked nose. "Miss Granger, welcome back to the United Kingdom. I'm sure Professor McGonagall explained how unusual it is to have a student change schools, but I'm aware of your reasons and hope you'll feel at home here at Hogwarts." He crosses the room and shakes my hand before stretching to reach what looks like a tattered rag from a shelf against the wall. "All students are sorted into one of the four houses of Hogwarts. The different houses function as support and family for the students within. You will share a common room with your housemates and work together in various classes and tasks. There are some good natured rivalries, but that is to be expected. If you will just wear this for a moment, we'll see which house you will be part of in a few weeks.

With that, he drops the rag on my head and it begins mumbling. "Yes, this is a tricky one. Previously trained and talented. Extraordinarily clever. Courageous too, and driven. But where shall I put you?" The rag wiggles around, messing up my hair, while it deliberates. "Better be… GRYFFINDOR!" it exclaims loudly before going limp. Both Dumbledore and McGonagall smile as I gingerly remove the thing from my head.

"Congratulations, Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall is your Head of House and who you will report to if you have any issues that need addressing. Your parents' home is temporarily connected to the floo network if you want to use my fireplace to get home. Remember… King's Cross Station at 10 am on September first. The train leaves from Platform 9 3/4." My brow furrows. I've never heard of a partial platform at a train station. He grins with twinkling eyes. "I'm sure you'll see some of your classmates entering if you get there early enough. Have a pleasant remainder of your vacation. I look forward to seeing you in a couple of weeks."

McGonagall hands me a folder which she tells me includes instructions for getting to Diagon Alley for the items on my enclosed book and supply list. I take a handful of glittery powder next to the blazing fire place, toss it in for the flames to become a harmless green, and state my parents' address. I feel the _whoosh_ and start spinning, only to land on the hearth of their house moments later.

A week later, we all leave for London. They get us hotel rooms in Muggle London, near The Leaky Cauldron. We use the time to sightsee a bit and while they rest, I head to Diagon Alley for "All things Wizard". After exchanging my Muggle cash for galleons, sickles, and knuts, I go down the list and get appropriate robes (my blue Beauxbatons silk ones would never be warm enough) with my new house colors of crimson and gold. I check off the books from the list I was given as I pick them up from the piles set aside in Flourish and Blotts for returning students. From the apothecary I replenish my potion making stock and sit down at a café to think of anything personal I want to get while I'm here.

I people-watch while I think. I realize that I'm not the only student stocking up close to the start of the term. I see teens roughly the same age as me, and quite a few younger, carrying robes with the same Gryffindor colors, ones with black and yellow, blue and bronze, and green and silver. I sip my tea and wonder about the other three houses and why I was chosen for Gryffindor. I get lost in my own head and I almost miss the dark, curly hair that I would recognize anywhere.

"Blaise," I call and see him pause and slowly turn with a stunned look of amazement on his face.

"Mia? Is that really you?" I nod happily and run to give him a hug. He wraps me in his long arms and swings me around, narrowly missing other pedestrians. "What are you doing in Diagon Alley?"

Blaise and I met the summer before I turned sixteen. My parents and I decided on Italy for a holiday and went to Tropea, where I met the handsome wizard in front of me. Less than a month younger than me, we began a fun little fling for the three weeks I was there. We both knew it wasn't likely to ever be more and accepted it for what it was. He owled me before I left France to see if I would be returning this summer. I was disappointed not to see him again, but this looked even better.

I pulled my new robes out of the bag. "Looks like I'll be joining you at Hogwarts." I smirk at the gob smacked expression on his face. "Oh, Mia, don't tell me you're in Gryffindor…" he moans.

"What? Why?" I ask and he pulls his own uniform out. Green and silver. I look at it and shrug. "So?"

He shakes his head, rolling his dark green eyes. "It's unheard of for a Gryffindor and a Slytherin to be friends, much less anything else."

"Who says?!" I demand and grab his arm. "I knew you before I even knew what a stinking Slytherin or Gryffindor was. That takes precedence." Damn if I was going to let some silly house rivalry at my new school keep me from the only friend I have here.

"It's not that easy, Mia. One of your housemates is one of the biggest prats in the Wizarding world. If you haven't heard of him, I'm sure he'll be more than happy to tell you all about his exploits. Harry Potter." He grumbles with a nod of his head. I follow the direction and see an average height boy with messy black hair and glasses. Nothing about him seemed extraordinary… except the cynical smirk that graced his face and the devoted group of simpering fans that trailed in his wake.

"What's his deal? Is he the next Leo DiCarprio?" I ask before giggling. Blaise wouldn't know who that was.

He sits with me at the table I jumped up from and pulls his chair close. "Harry Potter is the reason that Vol- You-know-who is no longer around." I'm confused. I know who Voldemort was, but he was killed almost fifteen years ago and there has been relative peace since then. Blaise continues. "You-know-who heard a prophesy that some kid born at the end of July would be his downfall, so he goes out to nip it before it starts. A friend of his parents told the Dark Lord where to find them. His father was killed instantly and his mother sacrificed herself in the hopes he would leave precious Harry alone. The story is that the sacrifice succeeded in protecting him and the Avada Kadavra spell rebounded, killing the Dark Lord. Harry was taken into custody by his godfather. He's heard nothing since then except about how amazing he is and how heroic he is, because he was the reason the Dark Lord's reign of terror ended." His eyes roll again. "He was a baby; his _mother_ is the reason the Dark Lord was vanquished. But his head is so swollen with self-importance that you'd never be able to convince _him_ of that fact."

I turn to look at the average looking wizard in the street again. He's even signing autographs and smiling for photographs. A tall, impressive looking wizard with black wavy hair stands off to the side, watching the scene with pride on his face. Blaise's eyes follow mine. "Sirius Black, his godfather. He was best friends with his parents when they were in school and after. His ego's comparable to Potter's, so you don't need to guess where he got it." He discreetly points out other students on the street. "Ron and Ginny Weasley. Potter's main follower and most frequent booty call." A glance further down the street and he pulls my attention away from the fanatic mob. "Pansy Parkinson with the Greengrass sisters. Pansy and Daphne are in our year; Astoria is a little younger. Behind them are the Patil twins, again, in our year."

He pauses and orders a coffee while I try to make sense of everything going on in front of me. As the afternoon goes on, Blaise and I talk more about our lives since we haven't seen each other is a little more than a year. I gave him my virginity the last night I spent in Italy and I don't care about traditions at my new school. NO ONE is going to tell me who I can and can't be friends with. He may be a little arrogant, but Blaise is one of the best men I've met in my short life. When conversation runs out, we resume our people watching with him still pointing out people I should know or will get to know at Hogwarts.

Almost in the shadows, I see a tall boy with platinum blond hair walking alone down the cobbled sidewalk. He stops outside several stores, looking in the windows, but never going in. He stands out, not only because of the lack if bags in his hands, but also because he is exceptionally handsome. Almost as handsome as the Italian sitting next to me. "Blaise, who is that?" I ask in a hushed whisper.

His lips twist. "Ah… Draco Malfoy. The Anti-Potter. You have time for one more story before getting back to your hotel?" I nod and smile. He tells the best stories. "The Dark Lord is no more and the world starts to get back to normal. Draco's dad, Lucius and his aunt, Bellatrix, decided to retake the title of Darkest Wizard/Witch of the age and started picking up where The Dark Lord left off. Muggle cruelty… torture of muggle-borns and half-bloods … use of unforgivable curses… random acts of senseless acts of violence. Unfortunately for them, they weren't nearly as good at evading detection and capture as You-know-who was. They were arrested, tried for their crimes, and sentenced to Azkaban." I gasp. Even in France, just the threat of Azkaban was a weighty deterrent for trouble-makers. "Their sentence included the Dementor's Kiss and both their vaults were seized to pay reparations to the victims of their crimes. Draco's mother, Narcissa, was forced to sell their manor and move into her aunt's old house. They live on her small inheritance. If Lucius had kept his head and hadn't gotten power hungry, Draco could have entered school as one of the most powerful pure-bloods in the country. He would have had wealth and powerful influence behind him. As it stands now, the name 'Malfoy' is synonymous with evil. Even those in the same house are reluctant to acknowledge him, despite the fact that all of this happened before he could walk. If Potter gets credit for his parents' bravery, Draco gets vilified for his father's misdeeds."

I turn my eyes back to the lonely looking blonde staring at the broomstick in the window of the Quiddich supply store. "What do you think, Blaise? Does he deserve to have his father's sins weigh on his shoulders?"

He gives me a bitter chuckle. "Of course not. But I'm in the minority. He's actually a pretty nice guy if he lets you get to know him, but it's rare that he allows anyone close enough. You could probably say that I'm his best friend, but that's only because I'm one of the very few people he associates with. He's kind of shy. Otherwise I would call him over to meet you, but he's uncomfortable around strangers. Smart as the devil though. He and I swap back and forth for best in our year," he grins at me with a sparkle in his eye. "I guess this year he and I will be battling for second place, huh?"

I laugh with him and leave some money on the table to cover the several drinks we had. Kissing his cheek, I collect my bags and head for The Leaky Cauldron. We make plans to meet later in the week and he gives me a _real_ kiss before I exit the pub. Suddenly, Hogwarts seems like the right choice after all.

**Now, we get into the story telling. Like how I'm switching things up a little here? I like taking known characters down a different road. Again, whether I continue or not depends entirely on feedback. I hope that readers are finding this as entertaining as I do.**


	3. Platform 9 34

**A/N: So I didn't get a major response to this. Kinda bummed. HOWEVER as I already have about 2 more chapters of this already written, I'll keep adding to it until I'm out. If no one likes, then no biggie. Hope you like my interpretation of characters that I own in no way, shape, or form.**

My parents are delighted to see Blaise again. They had been worried about me not knowing anyone at my new school and seeing a friend reassures them. Knowing that I'm not traipsing about London unaccompanied comforts them as well.

Blaise delights in showing me Wizarding London and introducing me to several of my new schoolmates. We also make it a point to reacquaint ourselves with each other's bodies. The year it has been since the first time has been _far_ too long.

When I entered Beauxbatons, I was the very definition of awkward at eleven years old. My limbs were long and coltish. I hadn't grown into my features and didn't know the first thing about feminine grooming. As such, I became a pet project of the older girls in _Maison du Phenix_. They created potions to tame my rabid, frizzy curls and taught me simple tricks with makeup to emphasize the only feature of mine that I liked: my maple-brown colored eyes. The girls showed me how to draw out the golden flecks near my pupils and what to wear to show off my petite figure without looking slaggy. By the time I was fourteen, I was virtually unidentifiable as the same gawky girl that I had been when I'd entered school.

I got my fair share of attention from the boys in _Maison du Licorne, Sirene, Lutin, _and _Chimere_ as well as my own. I dated and kissed, but no wizard before made me feel like Blaise does.

After taking a long "lunch" in his room at The Leaky Cauldron, he walks me through Diagon Alley. We get some ice cream and stroll the streets window shopping before leading me to a shady bench to talk. "Why so quiet, Mia? That's not like you." His dark eyes show concern.

I rest my head on his shoulder and close my eyes. "I'm nervous. In less than a week, I'm starting a new school where I know exactly one person. And because of some stupid sorting, my friendship with said person is suddenly taboo."

"Mia," he says, kissing my forehead, "I said it was unheard of for a Slytherin and a Gryffindor to be friends, but not impossible. I dare say that I know you better than some silly hat, _il fenice mio_. If it weren't for your parentage, I think you would have been sorted into my house."

I lift my head from his shoulder and let him see my hurt. He kisses me softly and puts my head back on his shoulder. "You know _I_ don't care, but the hat does. Never has anyone with less than half-blood been sorted into Slytherin." His forehead rests against my cheek with affection.

"Blaise, really? A mudblood?" A smooth, deep voice breaks into our interlude. I look up to see a scowling young man with platinum hair sneering down at us. "You can do so much better. You _have_ done better, if memory serves."

"Draco, don't be an arse. This is my… um… friend, Hermione. Mia, Draco Malfoy."

I open my mouth to greet him despite the insult and get cut off in amazement. "Mia? The girl from Italy?" His slate gray eyes widen slightly and I find myself flattered that he talked about me. "The witch that would knock us out of our lead positions if she went to Hogwarts?"

Blaise smirks and squeezes my shoulder proudly. "One and the same."

The blond glowers at him. "And you never once thought to mention that she's a mudbl-"

"Don't." Blaise's deep green eyes ice over, looking sharply at his friend. "You don't call her that. Times have changed, even if Narcissa insists on living in the past and is holding you hostage with her."

Gray eyes roll sarcastically. "It's not like it matters. What are the chances that I'll see her again after today?"

I smirk up at Blaise, who matches my expression. "Meet Hogwarts' newest Gryffindor."

"She's a fucking Gryffindor too? What the bloody hell are you doing, Zabini?"

Blaise kisses my cheek before standing and grabbing the slightly shorter man's shoulder – hard. "Mia, I'll see you around. Malfoy and I have to have a little chat about inter-house unity. Lunch tomorrow?"

I nod at watch as my _friend_ drags the blond down the street sternly. I can tell by his posture and expression that he's furious. I didn't get a chance to tell Blaise that the slurs were nothing I haven't dealt with before. No one seemed to think much of me until I proved myself… which I set out to do, erasing any doubt of my abilities. If everyone here is as bigoted as Draco Malfoy, I have a lot of hard work ahead of me. Fortunately, hard work and I are good friends.

* * *

I convince my parents to stay in London until the first. It only makes good sense. I pack my truck and we make our way to King's Cross. After helping me get my stuffed trunk on a trolley, Mum and Dad kiss me goodbye. I still don't know how to access the hidden platform, so I stand by the sign for Platform Nine and wait.

A rowdy crowd, mostly with red hair, crashes their way through the Muggles, seemingly without regard for discretion. Between the two platforms, with a quick glance around, the mother starts waving her children though. The two teens pushing trolleys disappear into the brick pillar between Nine and Ten. My eyes wide, I watch the remaining gingers vanish into the pillar. Shrugging, I push my cart toward the solid looking barrier and can't help but gasp as I pass through the bricks as though they were air.

Platform 9 ¾ is hazy with steam from the sparkling red engine and loud with the combined voices of hundreds of students and adults. In the midst of Muggle clothes like jeans and t-shirts, the various adults and random students in Wizarding robes stand out. Various patches of specific colors are distinct. I'm immediately attracted to the group clad in green and silver, but stop myself for joining them. Rather than become reliant on Blaise as my only friend, I try to find a group in crimson and gold.

The flock of gingers I followed onto the platform seems to gather on the outskirts of one such group. Remembering what Blaise told me and the scene I witnessed in Diagon Alley, I'm not surprised to see a guy of average height with messy black hair at the center of the crowd. He has one arm around a giggling and flushed blond. Scanning the group, he smirks and pulls the lovely redhead I'd seen earlier under his other arm. Her face turns nearly as crimson as her ponytail.

Bright green eyes meet mine and he takes a step forward, dragging his groupies with him. "Well, well, well… what have we here?" Chuckling dryly, he doesn't wait for an answer. "It looks like a new Gryffindor, but this is no first year." He adjusts his glasses and his gaze goes over my head. I follow his eyes and see the same dark, brawny man that was with him in the Alley. He wears the same look of indulgent pride on his handsome face. "Why don't I know you?"

I don't like his leer, but refuse to look down or away from his face at all. "I'm new. I used to go to Beauxbatons." I hadn't realized until now how thick my French accent truly is.

Emerald eyes twinkle, not entirely in a friendly way. "French bird, aye? What brings you to Hogwarts?"

I roll my eyes. "I don't have to explain myself to you. Just know that I'm a fellow Gryffindor and thought I'd introduce myself."

He gives me a blinding smile and steps closer. I can't help but think he moves like a predatory cat – silently, smoothly, and utterly dangerous. "Harry Potter," he says and holds out his hand. He looks into my eyes, expecting me to have some kind of fanatic reaction to his name.

I already don't like him. For no other reason than to see his disappointment in my lack of reaction, I fold my arms over my chest and stare at this extended hand. "Hermione Granger. Charmed." I curl my lip and crinkle my nose in distaste.

He shakes off my disdain. "These are my mates: Dean, Seamus, Ron," he introduces, pointing to each in turn. "My girls Ginny and Lavender." He nods to each girl under his arm, making them both blush pink and duck their faces into his shoulder. "Play your cards right, Granger, and I might be able to slide you into the rotation."

My outraged response is cut off by the loud whistle and call of "All aboard". I grab and heave my bag off the platform, heading for the car farthest away from my new housemates.

The one I select is filled with the comforting accents for green and silver. Sighing with relief, I scan the crowd for the wavy, ebony hair of my only friend. Two girls block my progress with matching sneers. One is quite petite with black, pin-straight hair and a pug-like face. The other is tall, lean, blonde, and intimidatingly gorgeous. "Aren't you in the wrong car, Gryffindork?" the shorter girl growls at me. At first sight, I pegged her as the mouthpiece and am pleased to be proven right.

I don't let their menacing glares scare me. "I'm looking for someone. Excuse me," I say, trying to slide past them.

They shift as a unit to block me. "I don't think you'll find any of _your_ lot in here, princess. You need to go back to where you belong."

My spine stiffens. I didn't deal with five years of prissy, superior Beauxbatons girls without learning anything. The first and most important rule: don't show fear. No one is better than you, no matter what they think. Before I can formulate a response, I feel warm hands on my shoulders. "Pans, Daph… tell me you aren't being… well, _yourselves_… to our new classmate.

The blond stays silent and intimidating, with a curious scowl on her face, while Pug-face whines, "Blaise, she's a fucking Gryffindor! Why aren't you being an arsehole like usual?"

I try to stifle my giggles. While arrogant and a bit vain, Blaise and arsehole sound strange together. I look over my shoulder and see my friend smirking at the two girls. "Because she was a Phoenix before she ever heard of Gryffindor. Mia, let's go get settled in my compartment.

Relieved, I follow Blaise past the girls, trying not to laugh at their expressions of outrage and incredulity. We settle next to each other comfortably and chat about the ends of our holiday. His mother left him in London around the time we met in Diagon Alley. She was following her newest fiancée to Portugal and rented Blaise the room at the Leaky Cauldron to use until the start of school. I tell him more about getting adjusted to England, since I hadn't been here since I was an infant. We chatter back and forth until a slam interrupts our gossiping.

Draco Malfoy storms into our compartment looking like hell. His platinum hair is mussed, as well as his clothes. He honestly looks like he's been roughed up and the furious glare in his eye tell me I'm right. "What the fuck are _you_ doing here? Shouldn't you be with the rest of the bloody lions?" he spits at me, sitting across from Blaise.

My friend opens his mouth to defend me, but I stop him. "I met some of the 'bloody lions' earlier. I have no interest in extending my knowledge of them."

"Draco, be nice to her. I know it's not your norm, but I know that you're capable of not being a complete arse _all_ the time." Blaise turns to me inquisitively, but before he can ask me anything, we all turn at a delicate knock on the door. The frighteningly beautiful, icy blond from earlier slides in. "Zabini, come on. We have a meeting with the new heads, then we patrol. I'm sure Malfoy can take care of your friend while you're otherwise occupied." She sneers at the other blond while Blaise stands apologetically.

"Sorry, Mia. I forgot about prefect duty. I'll be back before dark." He kisses my cheek and looks pointedly at Malfoy. "Be nice."

The two prefects leave and Malfoy and I sit in awkward silence. I shrug to myself and voice a question I've had for a while. "Do you prefer to be called Draco or Malfoy? I've heard you called both."

I can tell by his expression that he isn't expecting me to talk to him while Blaise is gone. "My friends call me Draco. Everyone else calls me Malfoy," he says quietly. "No one has ever asked what I want."

"Since we'll probably be seeing a lot of each other because we're both friends with Blaise, do you mind if I call you Draco?"

He looks conflicted, like he wants something he shouldn't. After several moments of silent consideration, he nods before saying, "What about you? Zabini calls you Mia but introduced you as Hermione. Do you have a preference or should I just call you Granger?"

I feel my face heat up in a blush. I don't really want to explain to a near-stranger the intimate circumstances of my nickname. "Hermione is fine. Blaise is the only one to ever call me Mia."

His long, lean frame stretches across the cabin. "So why are you back here with us snakes? I would think you'd want to get to know your new housemates."

I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Ugh! They're bloody awful! Blaise told me about that Potter bloke, but I don't think I've ever met anyone so smug and cocky in my life. Everyone around him seemed to think he was the second coming or something!"

He laughs bitterly, even if he doesn't get my meaning. "Saint Bloody Potter. What a wanker. His godfather is a cousin of mine and treats Potter like he's his father reincarnated; like he can do no wrong. Most of our world credits him for taking down the Dark Lord, but he didn't do anything except not die."

"You-Know-Who was the reason my family moved to France when I was a baby, but I didn't know that until a few years ago. The unsolved Muggle killings were hitting close to home and scared my parents away from England. They ended up staying in Nice because we didn't know the perpetrator had been stopped. I didn't even know who You-Know-Who was until I was in Beauxbatons."

"That's another thing," he says, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his thighs. "You don't hear of witches or wizards changing schools often. Why not finish your last two years in France?"

"I wonder when Blaise will be done with his patrol," I mumble, turning to look at the blank scenery zipping past the window, not answering his question. The only people in England that know why I'm here are my parents and Dumbledore and I plan on keeping it that way.

He doesn't stop staring at me with those eerily silver eyes. "They usually only patrol for an hour. So… why Hogwarts?"

Persistent arse. "I have my reasons." I scan my own eyes over his ruffled and rumpled appearance. "What happened to you?"

His lip curls in a sneer, not pleased that I don't ignore his less-than-pristine visage. "None of your bloody business, mu-"

"DRACO!" Blaise growls, sliding open the compartment door. "Do. Not. Use that word. And why the hell didn't you report Weasley and Potter?" Both of them glare at each other furiously.

"Um… I'm going to get a snack from that trolley you told me about," I tell Blaise, wanting to escape the sudden male tension filling the tiny room. I step out and to the side, so I'm out of sight.

"What the hell, Draco? Potter and Weasley rough you up and you just let it go?" Blaise sounds enraged.

Malfoy's tone matches. "It's nothing I can't handle. Merlin knows it's not the first time it's happened and it won't be the last. I want to know why you left me in the compartment with that bloody –"

"Don't say it…"

"- bloody Gryffindor is what I was going to say. Why are you so damn infatuated with her?"

Blaise chuckles dryly. I'm pretty interested in his answer, but see the snack cart coming from one direction and the redhead brother and sister from the other. I already know that, as a Gryffindor, I need an excuse to be in the Slytherin car. A trolley full of sweets is as good a reason as any.

"Oi! Granger!" A deep voice bellows down the corridor. "Why haven't we seen you in the Gryffindor car? Harry's been looking for you since the platform."

I don't bother to hide my eye roll and go back to looking over the snack choices. "Harry doesn't often show interest in new students," the girl adds haughtily.

I huff a chuckle. "Maybe because the only new students you get are first years."

The ginger boy speaks again. "It's an honor to get Harry Potter's attention on your first day!"

I order a chocolate frog, a peppermint toad, and a pumpkin pasty. After handing over my knuts and sickles, I turn my attention to the redheads with a scowl. "I don't really want Harry Potter's kind of 'attention', thanks."

Ginny looks at me like I'm crazy and opens her mouth, but doesn't say anything before a slender, perfectly manicured finger taps her on the shoulder. The frigid, stunning blond from earlier glowers down at the smaller girl before fixing her gaze on me. "Blaise is worried about you. Grab your goodies and I'll walk you back to your compartment." She grabs my arm and navigates me away from two incensed Gryffindors. Once away from their curious eyes, she pulls me into an empty compartment. A graceful hand is held out and her blue eyes suddenly don't seem so cold. "Daphne Greengrass, Sixth Year Slytherin Prefect."

I accept her hand and introduce myself. "Hermione Granger, transfer student and reluctant Gryffindor."

She cocks her head to the side with a small smile. "And Muggleborn that managed to outsmart and outscore every witch and wizard at Beauxbatons?"

I feel my cheeks grow warm with another blush. "I don't know about _every_ witch and wizard."

"False modesty doesn't become a witch of your talent," she snarks back.

"You don't even know me. Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?"

"Blaise," she responds with a shrug. "He's smart; no single girl at Hogwarts has the ability to engage him both physically and mentally. Over the past year, he's had flings at best, one-offs at worst. When he came home from Italy last summer, for weeks we had to hear about 'his Mia'. Since he's not really my cup of tea, I find it amusing how smitten he is over you." My jaw gapes. I really had no idea. "I've known him since we were little. I know I'm smart, but Blaise is bloody brilliant. The only other person that can challenge him is Malfoy." Her lip curls as she says the name, and flushes at how much she's said. "Anyway, consider this acceptance by Slytherin House. If any of those obnoxious Gryffindors annoy you, come find one of us."

Gob. Smacked. I'm completely and totally stunned. I mutely follow her back to my compartment to find Blaise and Draco staring daggers at each other. Taking my seat next to Blaise, he pulls me into his side and shoots more venomous looks at the blond across from us. Sighing wearily and closing my eyes, I hope for a short nap before changing into my new crimson and gold robes.

**A/N: Quick thanks to RealJena for betaing this sucker. Please R&R. I need the reviews almost like air. It helps me decide if I want to continue.**


	4. The reluctant guide

**AN: MUCHO thanks to RealJena for pre-reading/betaing for me. Besides a few, I am kind of wondering if anyone else is interested in this… despite me having not one little iota of ownership on the characters. Hope you enjoy!**

I wake up in the compartment alone. The sky outside is dark and it's noticeably cooler. I hear the excited chattering of other students in the car corridor, so I know I haven't been left behind. Sitting upright, I stretch and try to get my blood flowing back into my extremities. Rubbing my arms for friction and warmth, I reach to pull out my robes and uniform. Since I'm alone, I close the blinds for the compartment and start to change.

I stow my jeans and t-shirt in my bag. The only good thing I've found so far about being in Gryffindor is the house colors; green and silver tend to wash me out. I pull on my dark gray knee socks and wool skirt with my bare back to the door. A surprised gasp reaches my ears from behind me and I spin to look at the intruder.

Slate gray eyes barely take in my face before dropping to my uncovered breasts. I raise my hands quickly to cover myself and glare at the blond. He quickly blinks and turns his back to me, but not before I see his pale cheeks blush bright pink. "I wanted to make sure you were awake. We're almost at the station."

It's one of the least hostile things he's said to me in the relatively few times we've spoken. "Thank you, but I'm awake. Give me a few moments and I'll be done. Can you let Blaise know I'll meet him at the station?"

Still facing away from me, he shakes his head no. "The prefects ride in the boats with the first years. We take enchanted carriages."

"Oh." I don't know why Blaise didn't tell me that. I don't fancy a trip to the school with a bunch of strangers. I finish buttoning my shirt and let Malfoy know he can turn back around. He chuckles softly at my inability to correctly knot my Gryffindor tie. Our uniforms at Beauxbatons were much simpler and more feminine. Stepping closer, he lightly moves my hands out of the way and nimbly fixes my awkward knot. Smiling in thanks, I shrug on my cloak-like black robe with red and gold accents. We both silently watch the scenery slow in the window as we rock, trying to keep balance as the train approaches the station.

With a final loud hiss of steam, the train halts with an unexpected jerk. I lose my balance and topple onto a very surprised Slytherin. His hands grab onto my waist, trying to keep us both from falling to the floor. Once we're steady, he realizes his intimate hold on me and hastily drops his hands. We stare at each other awkwardly until a head covered in wavy black hair pops in the door.

"Oh, good. Glad you're up and ready, Mia. I'm in the boats with the first years, but I'll see you in the Great Hall. Unfortunately, we're seated by house, so you'll be with the Gryffindors. After the feast I need to take the first years to our dorms. Hmm…" He pauses and looks at Draco. "Maybe Drake can give you a tour while I'm busy and after I'm free, we can meet up, _Cara Mia_," he growls against my neck before nipping my earlobe, making my eyes roll back. When I regain my focus, I can't help but notice Blaise's self-satisfied smirk and Draco's thoughtful frown. The blond steps into the corridor to give us a moment alone.

As soon as the sliding door closes behind him, Blaise's mouth descends on mine. His tongue strokes mine gently while his hand grips my rear end firmly. "Just something for you to think about until later, _cara_." He sweeps out the door with a wink and grin that make my knees a little weak.

I drift out to the platform dreamily. Spending as much time as I have with Blaise over the past few weeks, I can see myself falling even harder for him. When we were together in Italy, it was for fun, a fling. Being together in the same place for an extended period of time will let us explore what more there could be.

Feeling lonely, I make my way to the strange, horseless carriages. I don't see Draco anywhere, not that I necessarily want to ride with him, but he's the only person who will be in the carriages that has been friendly to me. If this Harry Potter character, along with his devoted minions, is an accurate representation of Gryffindor house, this is going to be a miserable year.

I see a fairly empty carriage and make my way over. The three students inside are in blue and bronze – Ravenclaw, my mind supplies. A single girl sits on one side of the carriage reading a magazine. I silently sit next to her and try not to stare. Her radish-like earrings bob and sway with the rocking motion of the cart. I don't know how she can read A) in the dark and B) while moving without feeling ill.

"You're new here," she says plainly, not asking.

"I am, yes," I say uncertainly. Something about her is… odd.

"You have Willymites buzzing all around you. You might want to see Professor Snape about a potion to ward them off."

I have no idea what Willymites are or what kind of potion would be required to get them away from me. I don't respond, but instead let my distracted thoughts return to Beauxbatons. I'm bitter over the loss of my friends there. I long for the temperate climate that still feels like summer at the beginning of September rather than the start of fall.

I try to think happier thoughts. I'll be taking new, advanced classes, taught in a different manner. I've spent my free time in London reading through my textbooks, trying to get a jump on my lessons. Blaise tried to tease me and I accused him of just not wanting to lose his top spot to a female Gryffindor. I smile to myself, remembering how he blustered at my smugness before deciding to shut me up in a most pleasant manner.

The shuddering stop of the rocking carriage jolts me back to the present. I follow the crowd in, passing a terrified group of what could only be first years. Nodding to Professor McGonagall as I pass, we enter the Great Hall. I longingly look to my left at the table accented with the Slytherin colors, but reluctantly head to the right. Purposefully, I sit at the far end of the crimson and gold decorated table, as far away as I can get from the black-haired boy holding court. I see a hand raise from the far end of the room and Blaise shoots me a sympathetic smile.

I watch the sorting, immensely grateful that mine was in private… although I wouldn't mind having another go at that raggedy old thing. I don't feel like this house fits me. I was a Phoenix at Beauxbatons.

_Maison du Phénix_ was the leader of the other houses. It's not house pride on my part; the professors and other houses acknowledged it as well. We were the smallest house because it was the hardest to be selected into. We Phoenixes are athletic, but able to strategize so our strengths are used most effectively. We are kind and helpful, but insightful enough about human nature to avoid being used. We can be mischevious and tricky, but are cunning and clever enough to get away with our troublemaking and pranks. We are all beautiful - not just physically, but our minds, our personalities, our hearts made us attractive to members of the other houses… and each other. _Merlin_, I miss France!

Listening half-heartedly as Dumbledore gives a welcoming speech, I pick at the bountiful food that appears on the table. I'm suddenly struck with a longing for soft serenades and the glittering of everlasting ice sculptures. Sighing, I push my plate away and wait for the prefects to lead the first years (and me) to our common rooms. Before I leave the Great Hall, Draco pulls me to the side. "After you get settled, I'll meet you down here for the tour Blaise volunteered me for. Say… in an hour?"

I nod quickly and hurry to follow the scarlet-clad group to… _seriously_? I roll my eyes at the shifting staircases. How is a person supposed to remember their way around with those? Our group eventually arrives at a portrait of a large woman in a ghastly pink dress. "Welcome to Gryffindor Tower. Password?"

"Animagus," an exotic, dark haired girl announces loudly and clearly. The portrait swings open to reveal a very cozy, comfortable and large common room, complete with cushy sofas and chairs, game boards, and a wall of bookshelves that I can't wait to explore. I'm shown to the Sixth Year girls' dorm where my trunk already sits. I run my hands over the satin gold comforter and down the thick, red velvet bed drapes. Wanting to be comfortable, I change back into my Muggle clothes before leaving the common room, getting strange looks from my housemates.

I have to ask some of the portraits for directions back to the Great Hall; even though I tried to pay attention, the staircases moving throws off my sense of direction. Once I get to the entrance hall, I see my handsome, reluctant tour guide leaning against the stone wall. "Thank you for showing me around, Draco. I know you don't really want to."

He sighs and nods his head. "You're right – I don't. I don't like prowling around the castle… all manner of _accidents_ tend to happen if I'm wandering around alone. I usually stick to the common room with my own kind unless necessity requires me to leave. But I owe Blaise several favors, so…" He trails off and starts walking away. "We should get started so we aren't out after curfew."

We stick to the highlights – the dungeon where potion classes are held, the astronomy tower, the library. He asks what classes I'm taking and not surprisingly, my schedule of advanced courses mostly matches his own. He takes me down corridors and points out different class rooms. While making the tour informative, he doesn't say much beyond the academic. Coming full circle, we stop at the foot of the moving stairs. "I'm not sure how to get you back to your tower. I wouldn't be welcome there even if I could."

"Damn right you wouldn't!" A deep voice comes out of nowhere and suddenly, Harry Potter appears on the stairs above us. "You should come with me, Granger," he says with a smirk. "You don't want to ruin your reputation by associating with the wrong sort."

I look back and forth between the two incredulously. On my right is a self-important housemate who inappropriately propositioned me within seconds of learning my name. To my left is a supposed rival, looking resigned. Despite initially slurring my blood, he's been more or less cordial when he could have been cold and cruel. I look back at Potter indignantly. "I think I can figure out the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

Emerald green eyes blaze at me dangerously before he spins on his heel. I turn back to Draco, rolling my eyes. He's staring back at me wide-eyes. "What?" I ask.

"Why… why are you defending me?" he responds, dumbfounded. I haven't exactly been friendly to you."

I shrug. "Neither has he. But, even begrudgingly, you've put aside any animosity you feel towards me to help me tonight. All _he's_ done," I say with a nod toward the now empty stairs, "is assume I want to fuck him based on his name. From what I've seen, he's no better than anyone else here and if he wants _my_ respect, he's going to have to earn it."

He still looks stunned. "And _I've_ earned it?"

Shrugging again, I say, "Not just yet. The whole 'mudblood' thing still irks me. But having Blaise on your side is a tick in your favor; he wouldn't leave me alone with you unless he trusted you."

He nods and starts to walk away. I start to head up the stairs as he turns back. "Hermione?"

"Yes, Draco?" I ask as the staircase starts gliding to the left.

"Thank you for not judging me. I know Blaise probably told you about my family. Thank you for not holding it against me… like everyone else."

I step down on the bottom step so he can hear me clearly even as the stairs move me further away. "If I were to condemn you for your family's actions, it would be no different than you judging me for being Muggle-born. They're both circumstances that we had no participation or decision in. Blaming you for your father's and aunt's lunacy in your infancy would be akin to you blaming me for being born." His eyes widen; it's obvious he's never considered that rationale. "Open your mind to the differences in all of us and you'll see that the similarities are what's important." The stairs lock into place and I leap onto the stationary landing before they move again. "Good night Draco. Thank you again for showing me around tonight. I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow."

I turn to leave, but he calls, "Wait!" He reaches into his robes and extracts his wand and a ball of paper. Using a simple charm, he levitates the paper to me. "That's from Blaise," he explains before stiffly walking away.

I look at the paper closely and see it's actually an intricately folded rose. I almost don't want to open it… but I do. When I do, I see Blaise's spiky, slanted, but impossibly neat handwriting. He gives me directions to the portrait of Boris the Bewildered and asks me to say "Irish Spring" to the confused knight. He says he has a surprise for me.

I follow his note to the letter and give what I assume is a password to the picture. It swings open and I see a massive… it almost reminds me of the bathhouses that were in ruins in Rome. A steaming pool covered in color-changing bubbles dominates the room. I hear the footsteps approach, so I don't jump when Blaise's arms wrap around me from behind. "I never thought a few hours could seem so long," he groans against my shoulder. "Now that I have you here, not being able to spend all the time I want with you is going to be torture."

My eyes flutter as his lips nip and tease my neck. I try to keep all my sanity from slipping away. "What is this place?" I ask breathlessly.

"The prefects' bathroom. Only accessible by those of us selected as leaders by the headmaster..." He rolls his eyes before adding, "And the Quiddich captains. But at this time of night, on the first day back, I think we'll be safely uninterrupted for the perfect amount of time." His long fingers sneak under the hem of my shirt and start teasing the skin of my stomach before sliding higher.

"Per-perfect amount of ti-time for what?" I stutter, shivering as my head drops back against his chest.

He pulls my shirt off and tosses it to the side before shedding his own. "For me to make sure that only I occupy your dreams in when you sleep in that far-away tower tonight," he growls, spinning me around and claiming my lips in a hard, passionate, almost brutal kiss. I don't object in the least. We remove the rest of our clothes and he proves to me how magical the prefects' bathroom _really_ is.

**AN: I should have the next chapter done fairly soon… Draco has some things to get off his chest. Please review.**


	5. Challenging everything he's ever known

**AN: Still wondering how many people are actually reading this. I am having SO much fun imagining this version of the Potterverse. I was watching "Deathly Hallows Pt. 1" with my son this evening and kept thinking "well that wouldn't have happened" and the like. Anywho… here's Draco's POV and as a response to the reviewer who was thinking this was Blamione – not so much. He was merely her introduction to the Hogwarts community. We learn a little more here. Thanks SO much to RealJena for beta-ing/prereading: lord knows I need the encouragement. Enjoy!**

Blaise is nowhere to be found when I return to the common room… not that I actually expect him to be. I've been jealous of him for several things in the past five years, but I don't remember ever having the feeling that it's eating me from the inside out before. He has money, estates, freedom, friends… girls. I have my bigoted mother living in the rotting shell of a house that passed on to her when my cousin didn't want his "ancestral home".

I don't remember moving in as I was barely a toddler, but I remember Mother telling me about the house-elf that was half mad from the number of dark artifacts that were left in the house when my aunt died. Lucius had taught Mum a great deal about the depraved and wicked side of magic and she knew that we would suffer the same fate as the poor servant if the evil objects weren't cleared from the residence, post haste. As much as she didn't want to ask for help, she enlisted aurors and curse breakers from the ministry to ensure that the job was done correctly.

Lucius and his fucking bid for power… Mum's side of the family, the Black side, fit their name as they specialized in that brand of magic. Aunt Bella especially. She even scared her sisters with her malevolent tendencies. She created spells and curses for the sole purpose of torture for her amusement. She had no compunctions about using them on her own family to test their effectiveness. My _loving_ father encouraged her "hobby". If her blood hadn't been so purely evil, I have no doubt she would have bred a half-sibling cousin for me during their quest for infamy. My mother blasted Aunt Bella from the family tree tapestry for seducing Lucius after the Dark Lord was vanquished and they shared the goal of ruling the Wizarding World in his stead.

Several of my housemates are in similar situations as me, though they aren't looked down upon as I am. Their parents thought that following Lucius and Bellatrix was the _smart_ thing to do. I, at least, still have Mother. Crabbe and Goyle lost both their parents and had been in a foster program of sorts since the age of two. They were truly examples of nurture versus nature: without being force-fed the same pureblood shite as I was, they were fairly tolerant of the differences in blood... like the rest of my house. I am one of the only ones that has a parent that is openly prejudiced and proud of it.

Hermione Granger is challenging everything I've been taught by Mother. She's not dirty. She's not stupid or lacking in any obvious way. To my disgust and shame, she makes me… want. The way she explained her reasoning for not holding my family's actions against me was surprising. I'm so used to carrying the weight of my father's sins that to know that even one person, and a mudbl… Muggleborn at that, is willing to relieve me of that burden… I want to be around her more than before. And I already wanted her _plenty _before.

When I saw Blaise wrapped around a girl on Diagon Alley before school started, I didn't think anything of it. After enduring months of his letters from the French girl he met in Italy and the resultant uncharacteristic dreaminess from my closest friend, I was somewhat relieved to see that he had moved on. When I overheard him talking about to the girl about how she couldn't have been sorted into Slytherin because of her bloodlines, I was stunned. His mum didn't have the same prejudices as mine, but it wasn't like any of us _intentionally_ sought out those with weaker magical blood to associate with. To learn that _this_ girl was not only the creature that had captivated my friend, but she was Muggleborn besides, I knew I would need to reevaluate what I had been taught. When Blaise pulled me away from her that day, he was more forceful that I had seen him in a long time. It became obvious that he was beyond besotted with the chit and I would have to watch myself.

On the train, after Blaise left us alone in the compartment, I was uncomfortable. I had never spent any time with a Muggleborn… alone. She didn't shy away from me because of my family history and even made an attempt to be friendly. It wasn't what I was expecting. She didn't begin to act… less than approachable until I pressed her about her transfer to Hogwarts. I'm still curious about that. When she left to get snacks from then trolley, Blaise confronted me again about the less-than-complimentary term that I _had_ to stop using. When I asked him about his attraction, he sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know what to say. When I saw her on the beach, I thought she was a Muggle that I could play with. Maybe come back after the summer with a little more experience and go after the girls that aren't simpering after Potter. When she wordlessly transfigured the flowers I gave her and I realized that she was a witch… I couldn't make myself leave her alone. She was a Phoenix at Beauxbatons, Drake!"

"And that means what, exactly?" I asked. I knew little more than basics about the other school and what I _did_ know came from gossip during the Tri-Wizard Tournament.

"I owled Lukas after she left Italy." I nod, knowing his older brother attended the French academy. "He responded with what he knew about Phoenix House. There is little that those students weren't able to accomplish. Only the most powerful witches and wizards were sorted into Phoenix House. He was a little bitter; he was a Chimera," he said with a smirk.

Since I was curious, I asked, "How are they sorted? Do they have a hat there too?"

He shakes his head. "The Sorting Hat was made by the founders of Hogwarts. Beauxbatons means 'beautiful stick' in French, so it only makes sense they use a wand." I guess the confusion I felt was evident on my face. "When they arrive and have their sorting, they wave the wand. Based on the power of the student, an image of the appropriate House mascot appears. Bloodlines and legacy have nothing to do with where they are placed; it's all based on where their power is focused."

All he tells me seems like he wants her because of her abilities and it just seems… wrong. But I can't even explain it to myself, much less to him, so I stay silent. He takes my silence as lack of acceptance, so he starts with the dirty looks. I can't help but return them, filling the compartment with tension for _his_ Mia to return to.

She fell asleep short after returning, and he decided to visit some of the other Slytherin compartments to catch up with our housemates. I tagged along, not so much because I'll be wanted, but because I didn't want to be alone with her again. There's something about her that makes me feel like all I've ever knows is _wrong_. It's not a feeling I'm accustomed to. When the sun finally sets, he asks me to check on _his_ girl to make sure she's awake in time to change into her uniform while he finishes up his conversation.

I was expecting to find her still asleep, not half naked. The image of her bare breasts is still burned into my mind. Because of the stain on my family's name and lack of girls that want to be associated with me because of it, my experience with witches in a _personal_ sense is… well, none. I have my mum, my Aunt Andi, and cousin Dora. Andi and Dora don't associate with us much because of Mum's prejudice, but they're still family. After I was born, before the insanity of He-who-must-not-be-named falling to Baby Potter, Father had been contracting a marriage for me to the Parkinson or Greengrass families. As he currently sits, soulless and barely alive, in a bare cell in Azkaban, any betrothal arrangement that was made in my infancy has been nullified. I don't know whether to feel grateful or disappointed in that.

I spun around to hide my blushing face at the sight of her exposed body, but attempted to continue a civil conversation. What is it about this Muggleborn witch that can fluster me like none before? When I turn back around at her prompting, I help her knot her scarlet and gold striped tie. Another thing that puzzles me: she's a fucking Gryffindor! I've been taught for the past 5 years that her house and mine are nothing but opposites and it's hopeless to try to co-exist. But she isn't like the rest of the bleeding heart lions that I've met. She's smart – she has a way of looking at things (like my family's past) that I've never considered before. I can see from the way she moves that she's agile and fit. Little things here and there have hinted to an almost Slytherin-style sense of humor and mischief. It seems so unfair that Blaise met her first.

I gave Hermione, or Mia as my mind refers to her, having heard it so often from my friend, the promised tour of Hogwarts. I wasn't exaggerating when I told her that I didn't like being in the corridors after hours. Potter and his cronies have a way of getting away with murder in these halls and it's easier to sequester myself in my common room or dorm than to tempt fate and have to make _another_ visit to the hospital wing. I can defend myself easily one-on-one, but Potter never attacks alone… the coward. To have Mia defend me to him meant more than I could say, so I didn't really attempt to. I simply thanked her for not judging me the way almost everyone else has. She just smiled. No witch has ever smiled like that at me before. As much as I don't want to, I give her the note that Blaise asked me to give her. I just know he wants to meet her somewhere and get to experience things with her that I can only imagine. The unfairness of the situation grates at me further.

Sure enough, shortly after curfew, Blaise returns to our dorm. "Mate, I am never going to look at the Prefects' Bathroom the same ever again," he sighs, with a goofy grin dominating his face.

I don't have to ask. I've seen that smile more than once since rooming with Blaise and it only means one thing – he's gotten into someone's knickers. "Blaise, now that 'your Mia' is here at Hogwarts, are you going to be cutting things off with the Slytherin and Ravenclaw girls that you have traipsing after you?"

"Drake," he groans, clearly not wanting to have this conversation, "it's weird, okay? When Mia and I hooked-up the first time, we both knew it was a summer fling. Neither of us had any expectations or intentions for it to last any longer than that. When I saw her in Diagon Alley the first time, it was unexpected, but not unpleasant. She's all alone here and I want to protect her… but the feelings that I have… I want her, but I don't want to be tied down to any _one_ witch. She should understand that."

I don't like his phrasing. "She knows and _does_ understand or should just know instinctively?"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy, what do you care?" He only pulls out the surname when he's pissed.

"Well, _Zabini_," I counter, "I spent a good amount of time with the girl tonight and she deserves better than being used. If you intend on seeing other girls while she thinks she's with you alone, you owe it to her to let her decide if that's something she's willing to accept or if it's some kind of deal-breaker."

He falls into his bed and pulls the covers over him. "I'll tell her… eventually. Don't mess this up for me, Draco. I mean it. I _do_ care for her, at least a little."

I smirk, thinking about what I know of the girl. He's going to lose his luster soon and she'll be able to see past him. She'll be able to see exactly what he is… I just hope it happens sooner rather than later. And why, after so little time knowing her, do I want to choose her over my best friend?

It's well after lights out and curfew and I'm still not able to sleep. I wrap myself in the green robe that's practically a requirement to avoid hypothermia in our underwater dorms, grab several of my second-hand textbooks, and head out into the halls. I walk slowly and carefully, so as not to alert the random teacher that's patrolling (or worse, Peeves) to my presence. Once out of the dungeons, I make my cautious way through the dark corridors to the library. It's far cozier here than in the Slytherin common room. I'm _not_ expecting to see my usual far corner to already be lit by someone else's light.

I stealthily make my way there, keeping to the flickering shadows of the bookshelves. Sitting on the floor with the sixth year book of standard spells, lit by a small blue flame in a jar, is my new obsession. She has the book propped up on her bare knees, whispering spells and practicing wand movements. She is truly a girl after my own heart; I came here planning on studying transfiguration in much the same way. Unaware of my presence, she grins, points her wand at the jar of blue fire, and furrows her brow in concentration. To my surprise, multiple copies of the jar and flame pop up and appear next to the original. "How did you do that?" I can't stop myself from asking.

She looks up, startled. "Draco! I didn't hear you. I wanted to practice some of the nonverbal charms we need to learn this year and my common room is entirely too noisy for the proper concentration, even at this time of night… er… morning."

"What spell was that?" I ask, sitting next to her.

"_Geminio_," she replies, and waves her wand again, making the copies vanish, again, wordlessly. "_Evanesco_," she shrugs. "We studied non-verbal magic in our fourth year at Beauxbatons. I got the hang of it quicker than most."

I just stare down at her, remembering what Blaise told me about the Phoenix House. How their magic seems to have a little more power behind it, regardless of blood purity or lineage. She's given me proof just now. "How are you at transfiguration?" I ask with a small smile.

She rolls her eyes. "As good as I am at anything else. The only things that give me trouble are defensive spells. I can do them, but they're harder for me. I'm not sure why."

Being the target of wizarding bullies since the age of eleven, I've become an inadvertent master of defensive spells and jinxes, mainly to get myself out of unpleasant situations. "I can help with those. Maybe we could do some mutually beneficial tutoring. You help me with transfiguration and I can help you with the defensive spells that give you trouble. Maybe you can show me how to do the spells and charms silently also."

"I'd be happy to help you, Draco. I'd also be grateful for help on the spells that are giving me trouble. Should we go ahead and arrange something?"

I slide down the wall to sit next to her. "No, I don't think so. We're going to be in most of the same classes. If we need to, we can arrange something between periods."

Her brow furrows again. "What about Blaise? Shouldn't we involve him in our study sessions?"

I bite my tongue so as not to say what's on my mind. "He studies better alone. I've been trying for years to get him to study with me; he always turns me down. It'll be nice to have someone to work with now. What about your other courses? Astronomy? Ancient Runes? Potions?"

To my surprise, she turns a little green when I mention potions. "What do you know about the potions master here?" Her accent is thicker than usual.

"Severus Snape. He's… well… he's not the most pleasant teacher, and since he's head of Slytherin, he tends to favor us. He's not a bad bloke, even with his sour personality. McGonagall is the one you need to watch out for. She's evil!"

She chuckles and rubs her hands together over her blue flame. "She's not that bad. She warmed up to me considerably once I was sorted into Gryffindor, but she seems the type not to play favorites. Am I reading her right?"

"Yeah, for the most part," I grumble. It's entirely possible I dislike her simply because of her subject. Transfiguration is the _only_ subject I've had difficulty in and it frustrates the hell out of me.

Hermione casts a beam of light at the clock on the wall and gasps. "Draco! It's almost four AM! I never let time get away from me like this! Thank God tomorrow is Sunday and not the first day of classes! Do we get our timetables tomorrow?"

I stand and nod. "We should. Do you think maybe we can get together and review basics tomorrow? Somewhere out of the way?"

She bites her lip, thinking. "I don't see why not. After everything, I could use a refresher. Should we tell Blaise?"

Always has to mention Blaise! "I'll mention it to him at breakfast. Don't be surprised if one of two things happens: either he blows it off entirely or drags you away wanting some _alone_ time."

She shakes her head. "If he blows it off, it's his loss and he knows better than to interfere with my studies. I like him, but not enough to dumb myself down for him," she says firmly.

Good. "Maybe we can meet by the lake after lunch. It's relaxing there and pretty warm in the afternoon."

She nods with another of those grins. "Okay. I should probably get back to my dorm now. I'm glad I ran into you, Draco." She extinguishes her blue flames, puts the jar back into her satchel, lights her wand, and takes off at a jog. I want until her shadow disappears before I cast _lumos_ myself and make my way back to the dungeons. For the first time in a long time, I have something to actually look forward to.

**AN: I have about half of the next chapter written. Please review… it'll encourage me to finish it sooner. Thanks for reading.**


End file.
